Draco Malfoy AntiChrist
by mystical
Summary: Draco contemplates if he can be a$$ed being good and heroic, just like good old Harry...songfic.


Disclaimer/random note: The song "Gets me through" belongs to Ozzy Osbourne and all Harry Potter stuff belongs to JKR. That said, please read and review my little songfic anyway! It's set anytime after first year really, and its just Draco reflecting, Malfoy-style. Ok anyways, on with the fic!  
  
  
  
DRACO MALFOY; ANTI CHRIST  
  
Draco Malfoy waited patiently outside the Transfiguration Classroom. Professor McGonagall had told him to meet her here for his detention, which Draco understood completely. He had misbehaved in class time and detention was a just punishment. The fact that he had been waiting on said detention to begin for up to thirty-three and a half minutes did not bother him in the slightest.  
  
Honestly.  
  
I'm not the kind of person You think I am I'm not the antichrist or The Iron man  
  
"To fuck with this." He thought. Draco stood up and stretched his arms. He'd wasted too much of his life in detention already and anyway, the dotty cow had probably forgotten. With a small smirk on his face, Draco strolled casually away from the classroom.  
  
It occurred to him that his father had scheduled a meeting with him in Hogsmeade for round about now. Draco rolled his eyes. Another bloody meeting to discuss another bloody muggle killing; it got to a point that mass muggle murder was, quite frankly, boring. Wizards were even worse - they didn't even fight anymore. Where's the fun in that? And all this talk of impending war - it was hardly imminent. There had been impending war since the day bloody Scar Face got, well, scar faced. Death Eater meetings were quite trivial and tedious as of late.  
  
He realised his walk had taken him straight to the Great Hall where, not too surprisingly, the Dream Team were sitting. Mudblood and the Chippendales. Draco chuckled slightly; that was quite a good little name for them really. They did seem to haunt the dining table somewhat though. "Hmm." He thought. "Wonder why that is."  
  
"Hermione - pass the bloody bread!" Draco looked up, somewhat startled at the loud voice. He looked across to see that it had come from the Weasel third of the party, who was now grabbing at random plates of food. Draco raised an eyebrow in understanding. "That's why."  
  
He looked at the three of them. Well, he looked at the entire Gryffindor table, and then Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw, and conclusively his own Slytherin table. It appeared that the latter in the list was the only one in which the least amount of smiles appeared. In fact, he only counted one, and that was Millicent. On second thoughts, the poor girl had been suffering from an unlucky dose of constipation recently.  
  
Perhaps he had made the wrong choice in which house he would reside in all those years ago in first year. Perhaps Potter was right - what if.what if the Dark Lord was wrong? Could it be? Could Draco be supporting something really bad? His father had always forced him into these activities.was there any chance for redemption? Could he ever be one of.one of them? Could he be transferred to Gryffindor and fight evil on an annual basis?  
  
I have a vision that I Just can't control I feel I've lost my spirit And sold my soul  
  
Got no control  
  
Thinking back, Draco had only ever been a mere clown to the school. Well, maybe clown was the wrong word. He didn't pull stupid stunts to impress people and walk around in bright colours smiling like a git - he left that for Mudblood and the Chippendales to do. He was a performer. People flocked from all corners of the, eh, school grounds, to see him have a piss-taking match with an enemy, or to see him fight it out on the Quidditch pitch with Potter. Well, slightly above the Quidditch pitch, obviously. But he now realised that it wasn't so much respect or admiration people gave him - they just couldn't be assed to stand up to him because quite frankly there was nothing to stand up to. He was merely an amusing pest in the corner. He'd been thrown head first into the world of nasty bastards and now he didn't even know how to be one.he was quite the miserable failure, come to think of it.  
  
I tried to entertain you The best I can I wished I started walking Before I ran  
  
He looked up to see the Mudblood walking haughtily past him, nose three foot in the air (which would be quite painful, really). He quickly snuck out of his seat and followed her on tiptoe, waiting before they were in a deserted hallway before jumping out in front of her.  
  
"Boo!" he yelled. She screeched, flinging her head back in shock. Draco laughed mercilessly before running away. "Pathetic, yes." He thought with mirth. "But bloody good fun!"  
  
But I still love the feeling I get from you I hope you'll never stop cause It gets me through yeah  
  
He was still smiling when he walked back into the Great Hall. But he knew it was all a pretence, a cruel façade. He would regret scaring that poor half-blood tonight, when no one could see him.he would do something his father would certainly not approve of. He would feel sorry for Granger, maybe even cry, and then tomorrow he would get up and be a bastard again, and feel sorry at night. It was a deadly circle that he had to keep up with or else he'd lose his mind.  
  
Probably.  
  
The feelings that I hide behind Sometime reality's unkind The nightmares start for me at night I dread the long and lonely nights  
  
He sighed. If only they knew - the Mudblood, the Chippendales, the teachers, the pupils, the muggles, his family. If only they knew how he repented so about the things he'd done. If only he could turn the clock back. He wouldn't have said all those things to his fellow pupils; just some of them. He wouldn't have laid a finger or wand on those muggles.  
  
Not all of them, anyway.  
  
I'm not the kind of person You think I am I'm not the antichrist or The iron man  
  
Too bad the clock couldn't be turned back.  
  
He had just sat down at his seat again when the owls swooped overhead with the post. He recognised his Father's owl flying rather haphazardly towards him. The poor thing looked wrecked. Ha.  
  
It landed right in front of Draco and he proceeded to untie the large, bulky parcel from its leg. As soon as the animal was bereft of its load, it collapsed face first into a nearby jug of Pumpkin Juice. Draco looked on in disdain, one eyebrow raised. "Lazy Bugger."  
  
He unwrapped the package carefully.kind of. Well, he tore the coarse parchment wrapping off and quickly hid the contents under the table. He looked at it in amazement. To any passer by, it would have looked a tad conspicuous - a teenage boy, looking down at his lap with his jaw wide open and eyes practically popping out of his head. And one wouldn't usually presume he was thinking about how shiny his shoes where.  
  
What lay in Draco's hand, however, was a time turner. Draco thought back to what he had wished for only moments before; "If only I could turn the clock back". With this strangely convenient gift, he could turn back time, such as the name 'time turner'. He could be normal.he could be.nice. Hmm. Nice Malfoy. Good little Draco. It was certainly something to ponder. He looked across at Mudblood and the Chippendales. "I could be one of them."  
  
He shuddered. "Heaven Bloody Forbid!" He looked around him to make sure no one was looking. Satisfied at the result, he innocently chucked the time turner into the near-by jug of Pumpkin Jug to join its courier. Unfortunately though, what with both an owl and a time-turner in the jug now, it made a bit of a splash, consequently drenching Millicent Bullstrode.  
  
Said girl turned round and flashed Draco a huge grin. Draco squirmed and looked away awkwardly. "Bloody constipated Cow."  
  
I'm just trying to live yeah 


End file.
